Origins
by IdleWit
Summary: A small snippet of Jack's past, his mother and meeting Teague. Please Review.


**Origins**

"Mother," the young boy asked, his wide brown eyes looking up at a delicate woman who was attempting to pluck a chicken. "Where is father?"

The woman stopped her feeble struggle with the carcass and looked down at the small boy, who had only begun to talk a few years ago. Her brown eyes, exactly the same as his, began to fill with tears and the boy watched her carefully, frowning as she let the chicken fall to the floor and buried her face in her hands. He stood in silence and watched her weep, and not a word passed between them after she had stopped.

* * *

A young boy stood in the front of a vendors stall, sneaking glances at the crowd and listening intently to the vendor's cry of bread, fresh bread. When he thought it the right moment he slipped in a hand and grabbed a loaf of bread and as quick as a flash he had turned, the bread hidden in his shirt, and was walking down the dusty street whistling and smiling at weary passers. He had only been caught once at stealing, when he was four, when his mother had first gotten sick. He promised himself he would never be caught again, he did not like to watch his mother cry.

* * *

He was thin and wore rags as he stood at the docks, watching the ships go out or in. He cared little for romance, he only knew how to survive. He saw small cabin boys, a little older then him, work and then get fed, he thought it would not be such a terrible job, and he watched them for it was always good to know something about the work before you applied for a post. Then he shook himself at his foolish scheming and turned and trudged back towards the isolated hut he lived in, his mother needed him here, she still cried occasionally.

* * *

He sat at the table, trying to get his mother to eat the thin soup he had made for her from the little he could get. She just lay on her pallet and would not eat, sometimes she slept, she always seemed very sad and ill. She had stopped crying. She was no longer beautiful, she was hollow and broken, and he felt distressed looking at her. He knew she would not eat, but he still tried.

* * *

It was a hot lonely night and he sat in a corner, watching his mothers labored breathing. There was knock upon the piece of wood that served as a door for their mud hut, he looked cautious and thought of not answering it, but then he shook himself, they all knew that she stayed here and never came out, where would he go.

He got up and pulled back the wood, a handsome European man stood there, a hat upon his head, a blue coat and brown boots and an air of complete confidence and commandment. He had the white skin like many men at the docks had, very different from the dark skin of the village people. He was striking, but there was a little thing in his brown eyes that was not right.

He stared at the lad, jolted as he looked at his large brown eyes and face, after a few minutes silence he finally collected himself and nodded his head, then walked past him into the hut. His mother stirred and he wanted to say something to the man, but he forgot what as his mothers eyelashes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was the man, who had been looking around the hut as if searching for someone and only saw the pile of rags was human after she sat up. "

Sparrow?" she whispered in a soft voice, hardly believing her weak eyes.

"Darlin'" he said, he had a strange accent, and he attempted a charming grin.

To his surprise, the lad's mother began to cry.

The man only stayed for the night, his mother had him lie next to her, and the lad became excited because she seemed to rest more easy, to not breathe so hard. The boy sat and watched the man and her rest side by side, they seemed to fit next to each other perfectly. The lad wondered if the man would stay, and he fell asleep wondering what his future held. He awoke to cursing, it was dawn and the man was attempting to get his boots on. He looked towards the lad's mother worriedly, and looked relieved as she did not stir. The lad rose silently and stood between the man and the door, the man's eyes widened as he turned around.

"You're in my way boy," he pointed out, looking at the small chit who could hardly be six or seven.

The lad did not move, he just looked defiantly up at the man, he knew his every feature off by heart now, he had dreamt of his face and his happy mothers in the night.

"Look boy," the man sighed, shaking his head, "Your mother wasn't what I was expecting okay, she's different…I didn't know about you okay," he snapped angrily as the boy looked him straight in the eye with that same defiant look. The lad did not know what he was talking about, but he knew this man made his mother happy.

"I'm a pirate," the man attempted to battle with the boy again, this word meant as little to the boy as the ones before, and he still stood there silently. "Why don't you say anything, are you mute boy?" the man asked.

The boy was not mute, he just hadn't seen any reason to talk for a long time now.

"Look," the man sighed, "I know your mother is very sick now, and it's partly my fault that all her friends have turned their back on her…allright completely my fault. But I'm the last thing she needs right now…I can't help her. If she hadn't been so ill, if you hadn't been here…I thought she was like she used to, must have lost track of time. I was going to giver her this," He took out a dirty flask which contained what looked no more then water. "But…it's too late now I think, it doesn't heal, only prolongs…look…here take this," and he suddenly untied one of the trinkets from his hair, a small coin which he flicked towards the boy, and which the lad caught reflexively. "I had to pass it onto somebody, and more fitting you then anyone else I suppose. I have to look after the code now, at old shipwreck cove, nothing more for me to do…."

The boy looked at this man, who did not seem so unique as tired, and stepped back from the door, he knew this man could no more help his mother then he could. The man looked relieved, and stepped forward eagerly, but he paused for a moment as he saw the boy inspecting the coin.

"Here," he sighed and taking the coin he plaited it into the boys tangled hair, "So I recognize you if we ever meet again," he said and then he was gone, as fleeting in the boys life as the wind.

* * *

The boy's mother died when he turned seven. They buried her outside of the graveyard, with no mark because she had sinned. He sat by her grave for days, then got up and moved back to the hut. He slept in her pallet, and smelled her smell, and dreamt of her. He didn't cry, she had cried enough tears for both of them, to last a lifetime. He lived life much as he had before, he ate what he could steal, and he stole what he could without notice. No one cared about him, though sometimes other boys from the village chased him away with rocks. And so he lived on.

* * *

In the end the boy managed to stowaway on a ship, and pass as one of the cabin boys. He learnt fast and he worked fast, and he was smart, and he survived. But it seemed that he was not living, not really, and sometimes he felt the frustration build as he looked out to the vast ocean, to the horizon, and felt there was more from him out there. He lacked a purpose and so he drifted waiting for something to happen, a sign to show him what to do with a life that was soon drifting from his young fingers.

And after what seemed like many years had passed it came, he went to a tavern to spend his hard earned wages at shore leave. There was a looking glass there, a rare thing that the boy…now a young man teetering upon adolescence, had hardly caught sight of, let alone looked at. So when the man, the one that had visited them all those years ago, looked back at him as he peeked a glance at his reflection, he could not help but stare. He knew it was no magic, he had learnt many things during his time at sea, and he knew the tales, he knew what this meant. The man was not trapped in the glass, no it was just that the boy looked exactly like him, except for perhaps his eyes, he had his mother's eyes he liked to think. And he stared, until night fell and he was forced to leave.

But after shore leave had been over, and long after he was on the ship again, he could not help thinking of this. And he found himself muttering those words that man had told him, fingering the coin he kept hidden under his shirt (to keep it safe) that he had given him.

* * *

And finally Jack found himself running away from his ship the next time they made port, and sneaking into a less reputable one, which was heading for Tortuga. He had heard the tales, the pirate ones of their famed fortress. "Shipwreck cove" he kept on whispering to himself as he crouched behind some barrels in the darkness of the hold and clutched the coin tight to him, so as not to forget. He now knew where his father was, and all there seemed there was to do was to find him at shipwrecks cove. 


End file.
